To Have And To Hold
by Sth10
Summary: John Boulton is happy. He is marrying Claire and nothing could spoil the wedding. Nothing, that is, until his father turns up...
1. Default Chapter

A/N – Hey guys, I'm back! Another that some of you will have seen before but hey, I gotta go through the series! This is the first fic in my Father and Son series, which was originally published at TBFF. To my old readers, there are more to come and one day the series will be finished!

**TO HAVE AND TO HOLD**

"Was I drunk when I said I'd go through with this?"

Claire Stanton turned to glare comically at her boyfriend... No, fiancée. God, she just couldn't get used to calling him that.

"John, will you stop moaning?"

"I just don't see why you have to bring every possession you own! I do have my own stuff, you know."

"You're the one that suggested I move in before the wedding, so it's another thing less to worry about."

John's eyes lit up. "I _was_ drunk, then. You're the one that's doing all the worrying."

Claire threw a cushion at his head.

"Hey, first fight! And they're not getting married for another four days!" Don Beech lounged in the living room doorway, directing his comments to Mickey Webb and Duncan Lennox as they pushed their way in with armfuls of Claire's things.

"Where'd you want them?" Duncan rested one big shoulder against the wall, unused to such physical exertion.

John surveyed what had once been his living room, still decorated by the traditional Christmas tinsel. He was unable to see any of his stuff for Claire's. Every available space had been taken up. "Just drop it wherever. I don't think there's a free space." He shot Claire a mock glare.

Mickey took John's reply rather too literally. He opened his arms and let his load fall on top of the other items already covering the couch.

"Mickey! If you break anything..." Claire threatened.

"Reckon it's time for a break, John?" Don interrupted with all his usual smoothness.

"A break?! You've done nothing since you got here apart from stand around and chat!"

Don shrugged. "Someone had to take charge or it'd be total chaos."

John looked round. "Don, if this isn't chaos then I don't know what is."

"Just forget about it for half an hour. First round's on me."

"Yeah. And the second," Duncan retorted. "We've done all the work. It's about time you made a contribution."

"God, you Scottish blokes are so temperamental. Don't you reckon, John?"

John grinned. "I'm staying out of it."

"Are we gonna get this drink or not? I'm gonna collapse in a minute!" Mickey dropped dramatically into one of the armchairs, on top of half a dozen items.

"Mickey!" Claire's look could have killed.

"Oh yeah. Sorry." Mickey got up and look sheepishly at Claire. He was quick to change the subject. "Hey, John. You decided on the best man yet?" He winked suggestively.

"In your dreams, Mickey. You wouldn't even be able to find a suit!"

"Yeah, Mick. The job's for someone a bit more mature," Don put in.

"You mean ancient and boring? You gonna take it then, sarge?"

"Nah. I was thinking more of Geoff Daly."

The lads all dissolved into helpless laughter, finding great hilarity in that statement. Claire rolled her eyes.

"John, if you go on a stag night with this lot I will kill you."

"Aw, we'd take care of him!" Don protested.

"Yeah, course you would."

"Can we go for a drink?!" Mickey's voice rose in his frustration to quench his thirst.

Claire leant on John's strong shoulder. "Tell you what. Next time we'll just hire removal men."

"What d'you mean, next time?!"

X X X

Mickey looked out of the pub window at the illuminated London skyline. "I reckon it's great getting married on New Year's Eve. I mean, what an excuse for a party!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought," John agreed.

Claire slapped his arm. "We were actually thinking in more romantic terms when we set the date, Mickey."

The lads all whistled and cat-called, making John flush slightly. "Knock it off!"

"I wouldn't have minded tying the knot on the Eve." Duncan put in.

"You didn't have any choice in the date!" Mickey crowed. "Shona decided on the whole thing!"

"She did not!"

"Please, children," Don interrupted. "Some of us are trying to have a quiet drink."

Mickey grinned immaturely at Duncan, who glared back. Mickey wondered if he dared kick the Scots DC under the table.

"So, Claire. What you doing for the hen night?" Don asked, winking knowingly at John.

"None of your business," she shot back lightly. "Women-only information."

"What, you think we might gate crash?"

"Well, judging by the state you lot can get yourselves into just going down the pub after work, I dread to think how out it you'd be on a stag night. You wouldn't have a clue where you were going."

Don nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. You're probably right." He finished his pint. "I think it's your round, Claire."

Claire looked sweetly at John and rested her hand on his thigh. He raised one eyebrow but reached into his jeans pocket for a tenner. "I can see I'm gonna be constantly broke from now on."

Claire went to push her way up to the bar and left the lads alone.

"Okay, boys. Stag night suggestions before she gets back," Don said.

"Why don't we just crash round John's place with a few cans?" Duncan suggested. "There's no point in turning up to your own wedding barely able to stand."

"Duncan! How can you be so boring?!" Mickey was suitably unimpressed. "It's tradition to go out and get totally slaughtered. I reckon a pub crawl."

"What the hell do you know about tradition?!"

"Scuse me. Whose stag night is this?" John butted in.

"You can't organise it! You're the one getting married!"

"So?"

"John, you're not organising it," Don decided. "Leave it to us."

"Oh yeah. Like I'm gonna do that."

"What'd you think we're gonna do? Handcuff you naked to a lamp post in Essex?"

"That's about it."

Don and Mickey exchanged wicked grins.

"Don't worry, John. We'll have it sorted by tomorrow..." Don noticed Claire weaving her way back over with a tray of drinks. He quietened down and winked. "No worries."

John was worried.

X X X

It was gone eleven by the time everything had been moved and the lads had left, finally allowing John and Claire to collapse in front of the TV in each other's arms.

"John?"

"Hmmm?" He was half-asleep and not bothered about listening.

"Don't let them take you on a mad stag night. I know what you're like when you've got a normal hangover."

"Hmmm."

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

"No, I'm going to sleep. I'm the one who's been shifting your stuff round all day."

"John! Listen to me."

He yawned. "What'd you want me to say?"

"That you won't let the lads drag you round every pub in Sun Hill and get you totally slaughtered."

"But it's me stag night!"

"Promise me. I don't want you turning up half dead."

"Oh, come on!"

"John!"

John scowled.

"Promise me." Claire refused to give up.

John stared heavenward and rubbed his eyes. "Fine! I promise I won't get slaughtered. Okay?"

"Yes."

John grinned wickedly. "I'll just get slightly hammered instead."

X X X

"What part of 'no' don't you get, Mickey? Now sod off, will you?! I've promised Claire and she'll murder me if I break it."

Mickey scowled at John's uncooperative attitude and was silenced for a moment as his mind raced for another tactic. He knew John wanted to go along with it all. He just had to be convinced...

"But, sarge," he placated. "You can't tell me you wouldn't enjoy it, right? You're always up for a night out. I mean, what else you gonna do – sit at home and do the Times crossword like Duncan wants?"

"I hate crosswords. Look, I am not getting pissed the night before my bloody wedding! If anything happened, you would get the blame. I dunno about you, Mickey, but I wouldn't want to get in Claire's bad books the day we get married. You would suffer, mate."

"But nothin' will happen to you!" Mickey leant on John's desk, trying desperately to break him down. No way was he missing out on an excuse to get totally slaughtered. "How about we just go to a couple of pubs, maybe a strip joint....I'm kidding! Just a couple of pubs, grab a kebab, then back to yours for a few cans. Honest, Claire wouldn't even know you'd had a drink.." He stood up and raised his hand. "Scouts honour!"

"You weren't in the Scouts."

"Yeah I was!"

John raised one eyebrow. "They let you in? How long for?"

"Two weeks – but that's not the point...."

"Mickey." Meadows was standing by the doorway. "Are you going to finish those witness statements some time this millennium?"

"Guv." Mickey returned to his own desk and slouched into his seat, picking up some forms with a disappointed look on his face. He'd have to get Don to have a go.

"Thanks for the rescue, Guv," John said.

Meadows stepped closer to John's desk. "No problem. But he does have a point – maybe you should celebrate your last night of freedom and all that."

John threw down his paperwork. "Not you too, Guv!" He leant back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. This was hell. He wanted to go out and get hammered, have the best night of his life. But then there was Claire... Could he really break a promise the night before they got married?

"Why not?"

"Look, last time I went out for a pre-wedding drink I can't remember the last few bars, how we got home, or how the hell I managed to stand the next day."

"That good of a night?" Meadows smiled.

"Good?! I nearly had my head taken off by my brother!"

"Why?"

"I was his best man!"

Meadows stifled a laugh and shook his head slightly.

"It's not funny! Well, it was at the time... Guv, seriously, I can't end up in that state on my own day. Christ....can you imagine what Claire would do to me? And I've promised her I'll be sober."

Meadows looked at him, a small grin creasing his mouth.

"Guv! I mean what she'd do to me if I turned up drunk!" John snorted at Meadows' wry thoughts. "I don't know... it's like the biggest day of my life. I don't want to blow it or anything..." He grinned. "I never thought I'd be doing it, to be honest."

"C'mon, John, cut yourself some slack. We all need a good night out – you included. You were on edge before you went away and you haven't had much spare time since you came back. What with sorting out the registry office and invitations, wedding clothes..."

"Claire's the one who's been panicking about all that." John interrupted.

"And the best man...." Meadows continued. "Speaking of which, who is going to be your best man?"

John squirmed. "I was thinking of asking Don."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. He's my best mate. Think he'd say yes?"

"I'm sure he would – but I thought you'd ask your brother. Mike, isn't it? I mean, you are inviting him, aren't you?"

John stood up, obviously uncomfortable with the line of questions. "Yeah, course I am... Right, I'm off out, if anyone needs me I'm on enquiries."

Before Meadows could say anything in response, John had grabbed his jacket from the coat stand and was through the partition doors.

X X X

He walked straight into Don as he headed out into the car park.

"You all right, mate?"

"What? Oh...yeah." John was distracted.

"You've not starting panicking, have you?"

John grinned. "Me, panic? Don't know how too, mate."

"Only natural."

"Nah. I want to do this. Gonna be the best day of my life."

Don's eyes softened. "Yeah. It will be."

He turned to walk up the ramp.

"Hey, Don?"

"Yeah?" He turned back.

John pushed his hands into his pockets. "Will you...Will you be my best man?"

Don didn't speak for a minute. "Seriously?"

"You're my best mate! Who else would I ask?"

Don's face broke into a wide grin and he embraced John in a manly hug.

"You'd better give me the rings, then."

A look of comical horror crossed John's face. "I haven't got the rings yet!"

X X X

"You've done what?!"

Claire's voice echoed in John's small living room. He turned to face her, a bottle of lager in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He didn't want to argue; he just wanted to collapse onto the couch and watch crap post-Christmas movies for the rest of the night. He'd been rushing around like a nutter all day, with Don and Duncan in tow, trying to find a photographer, the perfect rings, his suit and confirm the booking for the reception. They'd only got round the photographer and reception in the end, thanks to Don's refusal to rush things.

"Why shouldn't I have? He's my best mate, for god's sake!"

"Look, John, I know he is, but...why not ask Mike?"

"Why would I? He isn't even coming."

There was a stunned silence. "You haven't invited your own brother?"

"Don't start, Claire. Please. I'm knackered."

"But I thought you'd cleared the air, you were both okay."

John sat down heavily on the couch, his hands falling limp on his knees. "Yeah, we are 'okay'. But that's all. I don't want to have to bring him across and....."

Claire sat down next to him. "John, you can't ignore him. Call him, tell him the date, see what he says. I'm sure he'll be on the next flight. I know what you Boultons are like when you're determined."

She smiled softly as he relaxed with the humour. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch. Claire could tell he was working out the time difference from London to Sydney.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – Gem, you're so right, mate. John must never be forgotten and we all need to work our asses off to make sure it never happens! Well said. Oh yeah, and I've redone the first chapter coz the paragraphs came out all wrong and made me look like I had no idea how to write!

CHAPTER 2 

"What about that one?" Duncan pointed to a silver-grey suit.

"Duncan, it's five hundred quid! Not all of us have wives who're made of money!"

Duncan shrugged with his usual good humour. "You're just jealous."

John glanced to his side. Mickey and Don were both killing themselves over a bright blue silk suit.

"Why the hell did I let you lot come along?"

"Because you needed some consultants. And because you didn't have much choice in the matter," Don informed him. "No way were you skivving off to go shopping and leaving us to do all the work."

"Don't you think Deakin will notice that we've all conveniently disappeared at the same time?" Duncan put in. "He'll kill us when we get back."

"No, he won't! John's getting married in three days." Don threw an arm round John's shoulders. "And Deakin was the one who said we'd better not screw it up for him, we're just following orders."

"By going shopping?"

"We're helping. Making sure John doesn't ruin the whole thing by buying some crap suit. Besides, I've got Kerry to tell anyone who asks that we've gone to interview a particularly uncooperative witness."

"Yeah. And he'll believe that."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Dunc, do you always have to put a downer on everything?! This is the first wedding CID's had and we've got to make sure it's better than Dave Quinnan's. That includes making sure John's got a better suit... Hey, sarge. How bout this one?"

"No! I'll look like a bloody penguin! Mickey, you've got no dress sense at all, have you?"

"And you have?"

"About twice as much as you!"

They continued to wander round the store, attracting some funny looks from the staff when they cracked up every five seconds at one cringe-inducing garment or another.

"We're gonna get thrown out in a minute!" Duncan nodded meaningfully towards a poker-faced sales assistant.

The others were still laughing like school kids. For them, the immaturity of the stag night had already begun. Even John had stopped worrying about the day and was just enjoying the attention and jibes.

It took a while, but eventually John managed to find a dark blue Pierre Cardin suit with a matching silver-grey shirt everyone liked and they left the store of their own free will before they were escorted out by a rather stern security guard.

"Hey, why don't you go for the full cravat and tailcoat?" Mickey suggested when they were halfway down the street.

"Mickey! You're not coming to the wedding in a minute!"

"But I got my suit sorted out last night!"

"What, you own a suit?" Duncan asked.

"Funny bloke, intcha?" Mickey pushed past the DC to walk alongside John. "Hey, sarge. I'll do the photos if you want. I got a well-flash camera for Christmas."

"Like I'd trust you to take my wedding photos! Anyway, Don's got this professional bloke to do them cheap."

"Owed you a favour, did he, sarge?" Mickey winked at Don.

"Shut up, Mickey."

Mickey refused to be brought back down to Earth. "Do I have to get you a wedding present?"

"Yeah."

"I got a kettle for Christmas as well that I don't want..."

"Mickey, believe it or not, I do have a kettle."

"Well, what then?"

"I've got more important things to worry about than your present! Just use your imagination. It's the one thing you seem to be good at."

Mickey thought about that for a minute, then grinned wickedly. "Right, sarge."

X X X

Claire tapped on Det. Supt. Hodges' door.

"Yes?"

She stuck her head round. Hodges looked up from where he sat in state behind his desk.

"Claire. What can I do for you?"

Claire shut the door and took the seat he indicated to.

"Guv, I need a word."

"Go on, then."

Claire found herself hesitating when she didn't want to. "I'm getting married, guv."

Hodges looked stunned. "Married? When? Who to?"

"On New Year's Eve."

"In three days! And who to?"

There was a long silence. Claire looked down at her hands. "...John Boulton, guv..."

Hodges' jaw dropped and his cup of coffee nearly slipped from his fingers.

"You're telling me you're getting married to John Boulton in three days time?! What the hell are you playing at, Claire?"

"I'm not playing at anything. John and I are in love." Claire was quiet, in control. Unlike her boss.

"He's a suspect in a corruption case you are investigating!" Hodges' voice rose sharply.

"He's only a suspect to you! John isn't bent and he never will be. Everyone else knows that, except you!"

"Just remember who you're talking to!"

"I'm sorry, guv. But I'm getting married to John whether you like it or not."

"I can't believe you've taken this long to tell me! Do you realise you could blow the whole operation?!"

"And how the hell would I do that?!" Claire's discomfort faded as anger and her streak of sheer stubbornness took over.

"For God's sake, Claire, use your brain! If you're married to a bloke you're hardly gonna want to keep secrets from him, let alone something like this! Or have you already told him?!"

"That's way out of order!"

"You'll be telling me the best man's Don Beech next!"

Claire looked down at her hands again. For a minute, Hodges was speechless.

"Oh, tell me you're joking."

"He's John's best mate. Who else would he ask?"

"I don't believe this! Do you realise you've compromised everything?!"

Claire leapt to her feet, her eyes boring into her patronising boss.

"I'm not listening to this! Say want you want, guv. But John and I are getting married on New Year's Eve and there's nothing anyone, including you, can do to stop us."

She slammed the door hard on her way out.

X X X

The rings waited until after the working day had finished. Claire banned the others from going along and had to practically drag John out of the rec. room and to the shopping centre. He seemed to have found safety surrounded by his mates, avoiding the rush and panic she knew he hated.

Claire found herself looking at him when they were in the car, studying his handsome profile. She loved him, whatever anyone said. She couldn't hurt him by telling him it all. She loved him too much. She'd never realised it would go so far, but she found herself feeling glad it had. Hodges could go to hell.

John got slightly more involved once he was away from the bad influences of Don and Mickey. They wandered round the jewellery stores hand-in-hand, forgetting about all the things that hadn't been done for a couple of hours. John, of course, decided he'd have the first ring he saw. Claire insisted on seeing a more wider selection before she eventually made her choice. John was yawning and wishing for a pint by the time she'd dragged him round six stores.

"Why do women always take so bloody long to make up their minds?"

"Why do men always settle for the first thing they set eyes on?"

John shrugged. "It's a male thing. You wouldn't understand."

"I don't want to."

They continued to walk round the centre, John wondering if he dared escape to the pub to join the others.

"Have you sorted out your side of the invitations yet?"

"Yeah." He was noncommittal.

"And is Mike coming?"

"Yeah. And Nick and Danny."

"Who else have you got?"

John was forced to stop in front of another jewellery window. "Some old mates from Liverpool and my cousin, few from Hendon and Stafford Row. The usual."

"And your parents?"

He looked guiltily at his feet. "My parents?"

"John! You can't not invite your mum and dad."

"I haven't got a dad."

"Yes, you have."

John pulled his hand away from hers. "Don't, all right. If you're that desperate I'll ask Mam to come. But there's no way is he setting foot near my wedding. No way..."

"John, please."

"I'm not having him there! I haven't seen him for years. I don't want to see him. You can't expect me to invite him to the biggest day of my life, Claire."

"He's still your dad."

"No, he isn't. He stopped being my dad the first time he hit me. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Will you at least think about it?"

"No. Are you gonna choose a ring or not?"

X X X

He wandered into the kitchen later that night. "Mam's coming. She said she'll take off before the reception."

Claire felt saddened by his distance from his family. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah. I guess so. We're not that close." He was vague as ever about his family. He moved to grab a bottle of lager from the fridge. "S'pose your mam and dad are coming?"

"Couldn't keep them away if I wanted to. Mum really likes you."

John couldn't help but smile, thinking back to the first and only time he'd met Claire's mother. He'd never felt so uncomfortable in his life.

The shrill tones of the phone drifted into the kitchen.

"That's probably Don. He'd said he might come over later." John went through to the living room to find the cordless extension.

"John Boulton."

There was silence on the other end. John frowned.

"Mickey, if that's you, grow up."

"John." The voice made him jump slightly.

He felt his muscles tense. He had to choke out the single word. "Dad...?"

"How are you, son?"

John's legs gave way and he dropped onto the couch. "Why're you calling me?"

"I heard you're getting married."

"Mam told you? I can't believe..."

"John, calm down. I have a right to know that my youngest son's tying the knot."

"I'm not your son. And you're not my dad."

"I've never stopped being your dad, John."

"Oh, don't try the sentimental crap on me. It won't work. And if you're angling for an invite, you can forget it. I'm not having you screw it up for me."

"I wouldn't do that."

"I'm gonna hang up. I'm not listening to this."

"John, please! Just hear me out."

"No! Why should I? I don't want you ringing me again, you understand? Don't you dare try and wheedle your way back into my life!"

"Son..."

"Don't call me that! I'm warning you. Try and contact me again and I'll nick you for harassment. You can go to hell for all I care."

He slammed his finger into the cancel button and hurled the phone across the room onto one of the armchairs. His head dropped into his hands.

"Please, God. Don't do this to me now."

He started when he felt Claire's arm slip round him.

"I can't believe he just did that..."

Claire's hand smoothed the back of his hair. "Look, forget what I said about inviting him. I didn't think..."

"It's okay. How're you supposed to know what I feel about him?"

"I'm sorry I tried to push you."

"Forget about it. It's not important." He reached up and pulled her down next to him, into his arms. "You're what's important."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – Gem, you're so right, mate. John must never be forgotten and we all need to work our asses off to make sure it never happens! Well said. And apologies for the screw-up with chapters – think I might have been drunk when I decided to upload the last one!

CHAPTER 3 2 DAYS LATER 

"You're taking the blame if this blows up in your face, Don."

"It won't! Trust me!"

John held the phone to his ear and dialled Claire's mobile number. Immediately her answer machine kicked in.

"Bingo, she's got it switched off. She'll be in the club. I think she's staying at Kerry's for the night."

Don grinned and stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Right, lads. Coast's clear. Let's go!"

All of the CID lads, including Deakin, Meadows and Jim Carver, pushed their way out of the living room.

"You ready for the best night of your life, John?" Don grinned knowingly.

"Only if Claire doesn't find out. And I don't get totally hammered."

"What we waiting for then? Elcott Arms, first off."

X X X

"Down in one! Down in one!"

The voices chorused and enveloped John in a wall of drunken, muted sound. The alcoholic numbness had long since crept up his legs and he felt, if he could co-ordinate his bodily senses properly, that he was paralysed from the waist down. He knew, however, that he was not paralysed – he was completely and utterly drunk. He grinned somewhat lopsidedly as he raised his glass. The amber liquid caught the bar lights and the foam head sloshed as he lost balance momentarily, slopping the froth down the sleeve of his now-unbuttoned shirt.

"Woah, steady on," Mickey grinned, reaching out a hand to grab the drink just in case.

John lowered the glass and took better grip of it. He grinned again and raised the drink to his lips, tilted his head back….and lost half the beer up his nose, over his cheeks and down his shirt which was already splattered with previous co-ordination mistakes.

The empty glass slammed down onto the bar as the crowd cheered. The barman looked up at the noise and scowled. He hoped the group would soon move on to another pub. The one who was celebrating was clearly inebriated, and his mates weren't far off either.

"Nice one, John," Don congratulated him.

John looked over to him and felt his head spin. "Yeah!"

"Don't you reckon that's enough?" Duncan put in.

"Nah, the night's still young and so are we!" came the enthusiastic reply from Deakin.

John yelled his agreement before nearly tripping over a barstool.

"Some of us are young," Mickey retorted, throwing Deakin a look.

"Ah, you're just a kid, aren't you?" Duncan interjected.

"Hey, 'nuff of calling me a kid. I can hold my own."

"Yeah, that's what we heard," Deakin sniggered. _Touché_.

Mickey was about to reply when John stumbled into him and brushed past. They all watched the sergeant stagger to the toilets and slam through the men's restroom door.

Deakin broke the silence. "Think he's okay?"

"What's he had to drink so far?" Duncan asked, concern wracking his face as he pictured Claire's response when she got hold of them.

"I bought him three pints of lager at the Elcott," Deakin offered.

"I got him a treble there too. Vodka, I think."

"Yeah, and I got him two shots – one was an Aftershock, not sure what the other one was."

"He had another pint from me there too."

"What about when we was at the Canley Arms?" Mickey asked. "I think 'e had another two trebles there." He took a couple of side steps and nearly ended up on the floor. "So did I."

"At the Canley?" Deakin thought. "I dunno, I got him a couple of pints of something but I can't remember."

None of the others could either.

Meadows shrugged. "I bought him a lager, I think."

"An' I got him a couple of Buds."

"What about here? What's he had here?"

"So far?" Duncan replied. "Two pints, one shot and two Jack Daniels…"

They all stared toward the restroom.

"Okay, I'm gonna go check on him." Duncan left his pint on the bar counter and headed to rescue John. "He'll probably be unconscious by now."

"I'm coming!" Mickey flung himself forward and fell headlong over a table. He stumbled to his feet and clutched his stomach. "I'm gonna be sick."

Don decided he too was feeling rather the worse for wear. He and Mickey pushed into the rest room ahead of Duncan and made desperate dives for the toilet cubicles.

"You English blokes have got no idea how to hold your booze," Duncan yelled, finding it all very amusing.

His only reply was the sound of two very drunk Cockneys and one absolutely slaughtered Scouser throwing up.

Outside, a more sober Danny had been left on his own with the teetotal Jim Carver, the slightly drunk Meadows and the practically unconscious Deakin. He looked round for a way of escape, wondering if he should join the others throwing up.

"John's gonna hate us in the morning," Meadows predicted.

"Nah. He's having the time of his life."

"You reckon?"

"Yeah. He's loving every minute of it."

All four looked to the restroom door as the other four officers all emerged. Duncan was half carrying Mickey and Don and John were both keeping each other up. It took them a good few minutes to work out how they could get back over the bar, where John promptly fell over as soon as Don let go of him.

"No club will let those two in," Danny predicted.

"They'll be unconscious by the time we get there!"

"You reckon we go back to John's?" Don put in.

"Nah, I'm off," Danny decided.

"And me," Meadows put in.

John collapsed against the bar. "C'mon, Jack! It's still…" He forgot what he was saying and looked to Don for help.

"We'll see you tomorrow, guv," Don said, diplomatically.

Meadows and Danny left to find cabs and the remaining group all stumbled out into the cold night air.

"We going to back to yours, John?" Don asked.

John pumped a fist in the air and swung round wildly. "Yeah! Party on!"

It was way too early for him to stop. He was having the best night of his life.

X X X

The group ended up in a kebab shop down the road from the pub. John and Don remained outside, trying their hardest to walk in a straight line over to a convenient wall to sit down before they ended up on the pavement. Both held half-empty cans of Tetly's, despite the fact John hated bitter. He tipped the can up and finished the rest of it in uncontrolled gulps while Don stumbled over to the wall and collapsed down.

"You know what, Don?" He crushed the can in his hand and hurled it over his shoulder.

Don nearly fell off the wall. "What?"

John frowned and took a couple of side-steps. "Dunno. Can't 'member."

He started laughing, finding himself too funny.

Don shook his head, then stopped when his vision became fuzzy. There was silence but for a moment. "You and Claire, eh? Who'd have thought it."

"Not that hard to contem. .. cont… Think of. She's great." He smiled.

"Yeah, but you!" Don laughed. "You hate all this 'touchy-feely' stuff, you said."

"People change."

"Leopard can't change spots."

"I'm a tiger, mate," John replied, grinning.

"I don't even want to go there!"

They both collapsed again, holding onto the wall for stability. John doubled over and tears rolled down his cheeks as their laughter rung out for minutes on end.

Once they had settled down again, Don said, "Sorry, mate, can't really see you declarin' your undying love to the girl. You're just not the type. How's she know how you feel?"

John looked over to him and paused, trying to form a suitable reason, trying to piece together all the things she did that made him smile, and all the things that annoyed him but still made him smile. He tried to think of how to tell Don that he, Robocop Boulton, could truly fall head over heels for this fantastic woman.

Eventually he just said, "She knows, mate. She knows."

The way his eyes sparkled as he thought of her didn't escape Don's notice. It reminded him of seeing a lovesick puppy. For some reason, he found he didn't want to rib his mate about it. "You really love her, dontcha?"

"Nah," John replied, as straight-faced as he could. "Only wanted the wedding so we could have a stag night."

They both creased up into laughter. John nearly fell back over the wall, which made Don laugh even harder. John eventually noticed blue lights and looked up, still killing himself, to see a Barton Street panda pull up alongside them.

"Hey, is that the taxi?"

Two PCs got out, neither of them known to the Sun Hill coppers, although they were unlikely to know who Santa Claus was at that moment in time.

"Good night, was it, lads?" one asked.

John spun in a circle, arms flying out to steady himself. "Not even started yet!"

"Reckon you've had enough?"

"No chance!"

"Are you aware that we've had a complaint about a group of drunken men making a racket? Wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Would what be what?" John grabbed hold of Don to stop himself from falling.

The PCs exchanged knowing looks.

"Do you two want to get in the car?" the other one said.

"Why?" Don took another drink of bitter.

The PC took the can off him. "Because I'm arresting you both for being drunk and disorderly in a public place."

John cracked up laughing. "You can't nick us! We're…we are DS…um…Boulton and DS Don…I'm mean Beech…from San, uh…Sun Hill. Yeah, that's it. Sun Hill!"

"Are you really? Well, DS Boulton and DS Beech, I'm arresting you for being drunk and disorderly….

"No! I know it! We do not have to say anything…but, uh, but… it may harm our defence if we do not men…tion, when questions, something which we later rely on in cop, I mean court." John finished for him. "And anything we say may be given in, um, ev…evidence."

The PCs seemed neither amused or convinced. Don and John were both pushed towards the panda and the back door was opened for them.

"But our guv'nor's in the kebab shop!" Don protested loudly. "Ask 'im. DI Dea…Deak… Chris. He'll tell ya."

"Course he will. Just get in, will you?"

"I'm telling you…!"

"And I'm telling you! Get in before I do you for resisting arrest as well!"

"But…" John started up.

He got no further before he was pushed into the back seat next to Don. The door was slammed shut and locked. John looked round wildly and started hammering on the window.

"Chris! Duncan!!!"

"Shut up!" the other PC yelled at him.

"You are real…really gonna, uh, regret…this," Don informed him.

"I'm sure I will, mate."

Deakin, Mickey, Duncan and Jim emerged from the kebab shop just in time to see the panda driving off.

X X X

"D'you reckon John will be slaughtered by now?" Kerry asked.

"He promised me he wouldn't."

"Come on, Claire! This is John Boulton we're talking about. He doesn't need an excuse to get pissed normally! Can you imagine what he'll be like on his stag night? Especially with Don and Mickey with him."

Claire took a sip of Bacardi Breezer. "Yeah. Fair point."

"Don't worry about it. I don't think he'd let anything stop him from going through with it. He's mad about you."

"I know." Claire smiled.

Kerry sipped her own drink. "Anyway. What's the worst they could get up too?"

X X X

Four panic-stricken police officers piled into Barton Street's reception, banging on the counter and yelling for the desk PC. Claire would kill them. They'd let her husband-to-be get nicked the night before his wedding. What if he was still there in the morning? Who would they blame?

The desk PC took his time in appearing.

"Yes?" He gave them looks of scorn.

"Get out of the way, Mickey." Deakin pushed the DC aside and went right up to the desk. "I am DI Deakin from Sun Hill and I want to see the duty officer."

"Really. And do you have your warrant card, sir?" He received a disbelieving glare.

"What'd you think, you moron…!" Deakin looked about explode.

"Excuse me?"

"Who's the duty officer?"

"Inspector McCaul, sir." The words were drawled insolently.

"I don't care who it is… Hang on, did you say Dave McCaul?"

The PC looked heavenward. "Yes, sir."

"Right. Get him out here, now."

"I don't think…"

"Do you want an official warning for being rude to a senior officer?"

There was a minute's silence before the PC made his decision. "What shall I say it's about?"

"About? It's about two of my sergeants, one of whom is getting married tomorrow, who are currently sitting in your cells having been arrested for being drunk and disorderly!" Deakin was out of patience. "Is that enough of a reason?"

The PC remained impassive. "Right, sir. I'll see if he's available."

He left the front office, leaving the Sun Hill officers to glance helplessly at each other.

"It's Mickey's fault," Duncan decided.

"No way!"

"You suggested we go on a pub crawl!"

"You bought John all them drinks!"

"So did you!"

"Will you two shut up?" Jim interrupted. "What about Don?"

The other three looked at him. "What _about_ Don? He's not the one getting married and he hasn't got a fiancée likely to strangle every single one of us!"

Jim shrugged helplessly. "I just don't think it's anyone's fault."

There was about two seconds worth of silence. Then Duncan and Mickey started on at each other again.

"Chris?" They only stopped when they heard Deakin's name.

"Dave." Deakin stepped forward to warmly shake hands with the tall, solid Inspector. "Thank god someone's sane around here."

"I hear we've got a couple of your blokes in. Do I need to ask which ones?"

"John Boulton and Don Beech."

McCaul grinned. "Surprise, surprise."

"Thing is, John's getting married in the morning."

"Is he really? Been celebrating, I take it?" McCaul glanced at Mickey, who was about to throw up in one of the desk's plant pots.

"You could say that. I don't suppose there's any chance…?"

Another grin. "For old time's sake, eh, Chris? All right. Give me five minutes. Can't have Sun Hill's answer to Starsky and Hutch banged up on Barton Street's ground, can we?"

"Does that mean he's gonna get them out?" Mickey managed to stop clutching his stomach for long enough to slur the question.

"Shut up, Mickey."

"Guv…?"

"What?!"

"I'm really gonna be sick."

Deakin looked heavenward as Mickey lunged for the door. He looked at Duncan and Jim.

"This is all Don's fault."

They waited for five minutes, until the door to the front office finally opened at Inspector McCaul re-entered, followed by a rather green Don and a hyper John.

"All right, Chris!" He pumped a fist in the air. "You'll neva guess what…"

"John, shut up and move."

John took a couple of side steps and collapsed against Jim. Don stumbled outside to join Mickey.

"Thanks, Dave. I owe you one."

McCaul grinned and indicated to John. "He'll never believe you tomorrow when you tell him about all this!"

"I'll be lucky if I can remember myself."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - Have to apologise for the huge gaps between updates. I'm just so busy at the moment I barely seem to switch the laptop on, let alone have time to upload new chapters. So sorry to the readers and thanks for bearing with me. Hope you guys had a great Xmas!

CHAPTER 4

"John? John!"

John heard a voice, sounding strangely far away. He carefully prised an eyelid open.

"Whaaaat?" His reply was barely audible.

"John!"

Still he refused to move from his position on the couch, lying on his stomach with his feet dangling off the arm. He forced the other eye open and looked up at Duncan.

"Get stuffed, Dunc."

"But it's ten am."

"So?"

"So, you're getting married at two."

John shot bolt upright. He moaned as his stomach churned and the room began to spin.

"No way. It can't be morning."

"It was morning before we got in."

John rolled onto his side and flopped back down. He glanced painfully round the room. Mickey was still out of it and Don sat sprawled in one armchair with a glass of fizzing antacid mixture. No doubt they were feeling just as bad as him. Deakin was nowhere to be seen.

"Jesus Christ," John moaned. He allowed his eyes to shut again.

"Are you still pissed?" Don noticed his best mate had finally come round.

"Sod off."

"John, will you get up?" Duncan nudged his sergeant with his foot. "Claire's been on the phone twice wanting to know what we did to you."

Another groan. "What'd you tell her?"

"Said you were in the shower."

With a monumental effort, John shoved himself up again. "Where's Chris?"

"I heard him throwing up about five minutes ago. Did you put some Aftershock in his lager when we got back here?"

John frowned. "How the hell am I supposed to remember?" He was quiet for a second. "Did something really bad happen last night? Why can I remember Barton Street?"

Duncan winced inwardly. "Um… God knows. I'll tell you later."

John looked at him strangely but decided he couldn't be bothered. Using the arm of the couch to lever himself, he got unsteadily to his feet. Duncan had to grab him to stop him from falling.

"Christ, Claire will kill you if you aren't in a better state by one."

"I need water. Now." John stumbled to the kitchen.

"John, get in the shower," Don yelled, causing John's fragile head to nearly split in two. "We've gotta go round the reception and make sure they've remembered we're going."

John grabbed the nearest bottle of mineral water and tipped half of it down his throat. He doubled over as soon as he'd swallowed. "I'm gonna be sick."

It took him well over half an hour to shower, shave and make himself look slightly more human. By that time, Mickey had also come round and stumbling around moaning and complaining.

"Sarge!" He roared through the bathroom door. "I'm really gonna throw up! Saaarge!"

John ignored him and gazed at himself in the mirror. He decided he didn't look too bad, considering how he felt. He'd managed to conceal his bloodshot eyes with some cooling eye-drop things he'd found, he'd eventually got his hair to go into its usual style with half a ton of gel and despite the fact his tongue seemed attached to the roof of his mouth and his throat felt like sandpaper, the colour had returned to his face and he looked pretty much like he always did when he'd just got up. He decided he'd be fine by two. Surely Claire wouldn't notice…

"Saaaarge!" Mickey's agonised shouts distracted him.

John gave up and unlocked the door. Mickey shoved straight past his sergeant and lunged for the toilet. John grimaced and left him to it, wandering through to the kitchen to get a coffee wearing nothing but a towel.

"You with us now?" Duncan looked up as he walked in.

John grunted a reply and took the steaming cup Don offered him, holding one arm across his lean, churning stomach…

"So, will someone tell me why I've got vague memories of Barton Street nick?"

Don studied his feet with great interest.

"Don."

"It was a little misunderstanding…"

It suddenly dawned on John and the memories flooded back. "Oh, God! I got arrested, didn't I?"

"Not just you. Don did as well," Duncan informed him.

"Shut up!" Don buried his head in his hands. "I don't want to talk about it."

John rubbed his eyes. "I don't believe this. I'm never going out with any of you lot again. You'll be well for the high jump if Claire ever finds out."

"You're the one who has to live with her," Don put in. "Anyway, Barton Street'll keep quiet about it after I've had a quick word." He nodded, supposedly reassuringly.

John ignored him. "How you feeling, guv?" He glanced at Deakin, sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, still wearing his stained clothes from last night.

"Worse than you lot."

"We're used to it, guv," Don informed. "It gets easier, don't it, John?"

"Yeah. Grab a shower when Mickey's finished throwing up, guv. Makes you feel better."

"No, I'm going home. I'd rather die in my own flat, thanks."

Don barely managed to keep a straight face until Deakin had stumbled out of the kitchen. He was nearly killing himself laughing by the time the DI left the flat.

"That is the first time I've ever seen Deakin hungover. Hey, wouldn't it be great if he'd got nicked as well…"

Mickey made his entrance, pale and wearing just his jeans. "Um? Where's my suit?"

"At your place, you prat. This is my flat."

"Oh… Yeah." Mickey's forehead creased into a frown. "You got any water?"

"Try the tap, Mick."

"Yeah… Right."

John felt well enough to be able to crack a smile at the state of Mickey.

"See, Mick. Said you were just a kid," Duncan said. "You can't take it."

"Get lost, Duncan." Mickey downed a glass in one swallow. "I'm off. I need to change."

"You don't say."

"Mickey, come back round here, yeah?" John called after him.

The doorbell sounded.

"And Mickey?"

"What?!" Mickey wasn't in the mood for talking.

"Get the door, will ya?"

Muttering curses to high hell, Mickey managed to find his way to the front door and pulled it open.

"Yeah?" He looked up at the tall, athletically-built young man in front of him.

The bloke looked confused, a frown slightly creasing his smooth, tanned face. "This is John Boulton's place, innit?"

"Yeah." Mickey didn't plan on being patient.

"Well, is he in?"

"Yeah."

The bloke looked strangely at him. "Can I come in, then?"

Mickey stood aside. His vocabulary was a little limited at that moment. "Yeah."

He paused for a second. "John! You gotta visitor. I'm off, be back later, okay?"

"Okay. Who is it?" John yelled back.

"How the hell should I know?"

"Do you wanna ask?"

"No! I'm going home!"

And John heard the door slam behind Mickey. He rolled his eyes heavenward and walked through to the hallway to see who Mickey had let into his flat.

"Rod!" He nearly dropped his coffee.

Rod Skase grinned that usual boyish smile. "How are you, John?"

They met in a bear hug, pounding each other on the back.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I heard you were finally settling down. Any chance of getting me in without an invite?"

John forgot about his hangover. His face broke into a wide smile.

"What'd you think!? Come on through."

Rod followed his former sergeant through to the living room, not bothering to ask why John was wearing nothing but a towel. He was greeted by immature yells of "Rod! Thought you were dead!" and "Look who's back!"

"You all right, boys?" He grinned round, happy to be back with his old mates.

He folded his leanly-muscled frame into one of the armchairs. He hadn't changed. He still wore the expensive designer suit, his hair was still floppy and perfectly in place, he still walked under a cloud of aftershave. He was still the same old Rod.

"So, Claire Stanton, eh?" he asked John. "I'd never have guessed, mate."

"Nah. Neither did anyone else." John grinned. "So, what you been doing with yourself."

"This and that. I'm a partner in a private detective outfit now. Do at bit of bodyguard work occasionally. It's good money."

"Yeah. I bet it is."

Rod grinned. "Thought you'd be at the Sweeney by now."

"I wish."

"You coming to the wedding, then, Rod?" Don put in.

"Try and stop me. Can't miss seeing our bachelor boy tie the knot, can I?"

X X X

By eleven, Duncan had also left to go home and recover for a couple of hours, after swearing on his life that he would be back by one. Don, John and Rod all choked down bacon sandwiches before heading down to the riverside bar where the reception was to be held.

They looked a strange threesome, ambling easily along the walkway towards the bar. Rod in his expensive designer suit, Don still wearing the crumpled clothes from last night, John in worn jeans and a faded T-shirt. They received strange looks from an old man walking his dog as they passed him, causing Rod to burst into laughter. John, still slightly suffering from the after-effects, gave the young man a sideways glance.

"Always said you'd never change, Rod."

It was too early for Rod to be able to understand that one. "You what?"

"He means you've still not grown up," Don translated for him.

"And you two have?"

John allowed a grin. "Gotta have a bit of fun, eh, Don?"

They bounded easily up the front steps and entered the classy bar.

"Nice choice, John." Rod couldn't resist giving one of the low whistles John and Don knew so well.

"You don't lose good taste, mate."

They wandered across the polished wooden floor to the chrome bar. A young man in the traditional shirt-and-tie uniform of a barman sat in the small, half-circle lounge area to their left.

"Help you?"

"Yeah. I'm John Boulton, I've booked the place for a wedding reception at three. Just wanted to check that everything's OK."

The bloke indicated for them to take seats in the ridiculously-comfortable chairs.

"Yeah, everything's sorted out, Mr Boulton…"

But John wasn't listening. He stood by the chair he had been about to take, looking straight out of the full-length windows that encircled the lounge area. Don saw his jaw tense.

"What's up, John?" He followed his mate's gaze, out to where a man stood at the top of the stairs, looking in at them.

John swallowed hard. "Look, can you just sort this out? I'll be back in a minute."

"John!" Don started to his feet, but John had left the lounge area and was pushing open the entrance door.

For a minute he just stood there, watching the man. He felt his muscles tense up and he found himself involuntarily moving forward.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Jack Boulton looked at his son for the first time in years. "John…"

"I said what're you doing here? I thought I told you."

"Will you just give me a chance to say what I've gotta say?"

"No, I fucking won't! Just turn around and sod off back to wherever you've come from!"

"I've changed, John! I know the past should never have happened and I'm sorry! Honest to God, I am. I can't believe I did it now. John, I only want to talk to you!"

John wasn't having any of it. "Well, I don't! And how did you know where to find me? Did Mam tell you? I can't believe she's still taken in by you…!"

"John!" His father's voice rose to a desperate shout. "Please, son."

"Don't call me that!" The sound of desperation made no difference to John

"I just wanted to say that I'm happy for you! Is that so bad?!"

"Yes." John growled the words. "I don't want to hear it. I don't care what you think! I don't want you involved, I don't even want you interested in my life! Just leave me alone. Get lost and don't show your face around here again."

He turned to walk away. He felt a familiar strong grip on his arm.

"Don't just walk away, John…"

John couldn't stop his reaction. Panic gripped him, just as it had all those years ago, when he was just a terrified, defenceless kid. But he wasn't a kid any more and he certainly wasn't defenceless. He hit out, catching his father across the jaw. Jack Boulton stumbled back a pace, before raising his gaze to his son. John saw that anger in his eyes, anger he knew so well.

"Dad…" He felt that fear again.

"Think you're a big man now, John? Because you've gotta nice important badge, a good life in the capital, a bit of authority? Think you're hard enough to fight back? You're neva gonna be able to, John, and you know it."

"Just shut the FUCK up!" John found himself roaring. "What the FUCK do you know?!"

"I know you're still scared of me, deep down. Underneath all that confidence and bravado."

"That's what you think!"

Jack Boulton stepped forward and gripped John by his leather jacket lapels. His son now stood over one and a half inches taller than him and was undoubtedly stronger. It didn't make any difference as far as he was concerned.

John tensed and he felt a band of panic tighten round his chest. He could smell that smell, the one that made the bile rise. The smell of Scotch.

"Have you been drinking?!" He was incredulous, unable to believe it.

His father just looked at him and John knew. He knew what he'd known all along. His dad hadn't changed. And he never would. He felt no guilt, and if he did, it was only because of the alcohol in his system.

Blindly, he swung his fist again. Blood dripped from his father's lip and his grip tightened on John's shirt.

"Don't you dare, Jonny."

John felt the sharp force of his father's fist making contact with his face. His head snapped back and he was unable to help staggering.

"Get the FUCK off me! You can't do this any more!"

"Shut up, John. Yelling never got you nowhere. What makes you think it'll help now?"

His father swung him round, so his back was now to the bar windows and John was facing them. He looked, praying for Rod and Don to look up. They weren't even in the lounge area any more. They couldn't see what was going on.

"Let go of me." His voice suddenly became calmer. "You can't just use your fists now, Dad. I'm not just that kid who'll take it all and keep his gob shut anymore. Let me go."

"No."

John lost his last bit of patience. "I SAID, let me go!"

He shoved his father, sending Jack Boulton back and releasing his grip. He saw a flicker of rage in his dad's eyes. Fear welled inside him, a fear he hadn't felt since he was a kid.

"Just back off, Dad!" All his training was useless now. All the psychology, the restraining techniques, the defence methods were out. It was a simple fight, just as it had always been.

Jack Boulton moved forward with those familiar menacing paces. John didn't wait to be hit first. Just as he had when he was that enraged, terrified teenager, he hurled himself forward. Both Boulton men lunged for each other, a red mist drowning out any rational thoughts. John drove for his father's torso, to try and tackle him down to the ground, where he knew he had a better chance of getting the upper hand. Before he could throw his weight behind the tackle, he felt a swift upper-cut under his chin, snapping his head back. He allowed himself to fall, hitting the ground hard.

He could feel blood streaming from a split lip but he didn't make a sound as he sprawled on the concrete. He couldn't give his father the satisfaction of hearing him yell.

He struggled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing around his right eye. He met his father's eyes, saw the familiar emotionless hazel. He still didn't care. John felt the rage rise inside him.

"God, John, I didn't mean…" Jack stammered, anger gone.

John would allow him to finish. He didn't want to hear it. He knew it was all lies. "Save it, Dad."

"John!"

He turned to see Don and Rod barrelling out of the bar towards him. Don pushed straight past Jack Boulton. John knew he was already imagining what Claire would do to him for allowing her husband-to-be to get into a fight two hours before he got married.

"I don't believe this! What's goin' on now?"

Rod thundered up to grab hold of John's father by the front of his shirt, getting caught up in the adrenaline of the moment, just as he always had done. "Who the hell're you?"

"Rod, don't." John mumbled.

Rod kept his grip. "Who is he?"

John could barely bring himself to say it. "He's my dad."

"Your dad?!" Rod looked incredulous.

"That's what he said." Jack Boulton looked straight at the young man, his gaze eerily identical to his son's.

"Rod, just let him go," Don said.

Slowly, Rod released John's father. Jack stepped back a couple of paces away from him, before starting forward towards his son.

"Don't come near me!" John's voice rose sharply as the band of panic around his chest tightened once more..

"John…"

"No! Fuck off, Dad. I don't wanna know." Panic glowed in John's eyes and he found himself automatically looking for an escape route. Nothing had changed from when he was that terrified sixteen-year-old.

Jack looked as if he was about to reach out to his son, but he didn't. He looked at John, a glimmer of sadness in his hazel eyes, so like John's.

"Are we that much different, John?" he asked, almost inaudibly.

John couldn't return his gaze. He didn't hesitate in his reply. "You know we are."

Neither of the three men moved as Jack Boulton looked at his son once more, before turning and walking away. He didn't look back. John continued to stand rigid, tense and struggling to suck enough air into his lungs, constricted by his panic. It seemed to take a long time before the band around his chest finally loosened and he felt his muscles relax voluntarily. He swallowed his fear and let out a long, wavering breath.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Don wasted no time in rounding on his mate. "You really pick your days to have a scrap with your old man!"

"Leave it off."

"Hey, you all right?" Don managed to forget about Claire's wrath for a minute.

"Yeah. I'm fine." John said the words too sharply, and too quickly, to make them sound believable.

Don looked at him, his gaze piercing and contradicting. He didn't miss the glimmer of emotion in John's eyes and couldn't help but feel concern for his mate. He'd never seen him like before. He'd never seen that look of pure panic, maybe even of fear. John wasn't afraid of anyone, was he? "Like hell you're okay."

"I said leave off, Don!" John's voice sharply, but Don couldn't detect any anger. Christ, John actually sounded scared. The younger man gingerly touched his right eye, feeling the swelling already rising. "Fuck, I'm gonna have a black eye."

Don seemed to take a minute to absorb that panic-inducing information. Then he rolled his eyes heavenward. "How did I know that something like this would happen?"


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER

Sitting in Don's car together as Rod hurriedly finalised agreements with the bar owner, John held his head in his hands. He didn't care about the black eye, didn't care about the hammer pounding inside his skull. All he could think about was his father. After all those years, not a single thing had changed.

"You gonna tell me now?" Don's voice broke through his thoughts.

John rubbed at his eyes. "What you talking about?"

"Your old man. What was that all about?"

"Nothin'. We just don't get on."

"He's not coming to the wedding?"

"No chance. I'm not having him near. I can't believe he showed up…"

Don frowned. "What happened between you two?"

"Nothin' important."

"It must've been."

John looked at him for the first time. "It was a long time ago."

"He used to hit you, didn't he?"

John felt his muscles tense. "_What_?"

Don smiled ruefully. "My old man used to knock me about when I was a kid. Said I had to learn to behave. His version of discipline. I'm the same way as you are around my dad when I see him."

"How'd you know?"

"I saw that look in your eyes back at the bar. I've never seen you really scared before, John. That was real fear."

John choked out a humourless laugh. "You'd think I'd have got over it by now, wouldn't you?"

"I don't think you ever get over it. You never forget. Or really forgive. Hell, I still hate being in the same room as my old man."

John exhaled slowly. "That was the first time I've seen him in years. It was so weird, just seeing him standing there in front of me. And when he started sounding off… It brought everything back. When he grabbed me, I just went off. I _had _to fight back. I've never hated anyone so much, Don."

"Did you want to beat him?"

It took John a long time to nod. He looked up, his eyes shining with emotion. "I wanted to kick the shit out him."

X X X

John slid his key into the front door and let himself in. Don and Rod followed him in, tossing their jackets carelessly down to join the others led on the floor before wandering through into the living room. John collapsed onto the couch, ignoring Mickey and Duncan's frozen gazes as they lounged in the armchairs in their suits and ties.

"What the hell…" Duncan started.

John pretended not to hear, gingerly touching his eye again.

"You been in a fight?" Mickey leant forward with great interest.

"No, Mickey. He walked into a door," Don interrupted.

Rod snorted with laughter. Mickey glanced sharply at the unknown visitor.

"Who're you?"

"Mick, he's Rod Skase!"

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "You replaced him at Sun Hill, you prat."

Realisation finally dawned and Mickey eyed his predecessor. "All right, mate?"

Rod smirked. "Yeah."

Mickey lost interest and turned back to John, who was stretched out across the full length of the couch, trainers dangling off one arm. His face was still drained of any colour and he looked as if he was about to fall asleep.

"That's one nasty shiner, sarge."

"Sod off, Mickey."

Don shoved Mickey out of his armchair so he could sit down. "Claire won't even realise that anything's happened, mate. Trust me."

"What you gonna do?" John cracked open one wary eye.

"Just get yourself a drink and get changed. I'll sort the rest."

"Don."

"Just do it! It'll be sorted."

John eyed him suspiciously for a minute, unwilling to move from his comfortable position. Only a glance at his watch spurred him into action and he eventually got up and made his way through to the kitchen. Don grabbed the phone and dialled a number.

"Hi, Kerry. It's Don. Look, we've gotta little bit of a problem…"

"What sort of a problem?" Kerry sounded automatically suspicious.

"I'll explain later. Can you stop by John's place, like now? We're gettin' desperate."

"Only if you tell me what's going on."

"I will. When you get here."

An audible sigh. "Fine. I'll be with you in five minutes."

Don smiled and cancelled the call. He sat back in the armchair and counted the minutes on his Rolex until the doorbell eventually went.

"Don't let Mickey answer it this time!" John yelled from the bedroom.

Don swung his legs down and wandered through to the hallway, expecting to find Kerry on the doorstep. Instead he found himself looking at a stocky man aged about forty.

"Help you?" he asked, distractedly, looking outside in the hope of seeing Kerry standing behind the bloke.

"Um, is John in?"

"Yeah. Come on in." Don gave up on Kerry and stood aside. "You coming to the wedding?"

The bloke grinned.

"I suppose I am. I'm John's brother. Mike."

Don shook the hand that was proffered with a grin. "Oh, sorry, mate. Wouldn't have guessed you two were related."

"Tell me about it. Is he on the last minute as usual?"

"You could say that. Come through."

Mike followed him back through to the living room.

"John! Your brother's 'ere."

"Mike?"

"How many other brothers d'you have?" Mike shouted back.

John wandered through, wearing his suit trousers and half-buttoned shirt.

"Mike, you all right, mate?"

"Jesus Christ, what you been up to?"

"Uh, I'll tell you later."

Mike didn't seem so willing to drop it. "Do it on duty?"

"Not exactly."

"More like very much off-duty," Mickey put in with a snort of laughter.

Don gave him a warning glare.

"Where's Nick and Danny at?" John lowered himself onto the couch.

"Still crashed out at the hotel. I just dropped by to check there's not total chaos. You know, like _my_ wedding. I'll have to go back and drag them out of bed."

John grinned. "Is Nick all right?"

Mike nodded, a glimmer of pride noticeable in his eyes. "Yeah. He's all right."

The doorbell went again. Don leapt to his feet, half relieved, half satisfied that he'd once again triumphed.

"John, I think I've got a way to save you some serious earache."

X X X

"Ow!"

"Keep still, will you?"

John shifted uncomfortably. "Kerry!"

Kerry continued to dab concealer over John's bruises. "Stop moving or it'll look awful!"

"It'll look awful anyway!"

"Well, you shouldn't have got into a fight two hours before your wedding, should you?"

John squirmed, despite the fact he was trying to sit still. It didn't help having Mickey and Duncan watching from the doorway with great interest.

"Can't you hurry up?"

"No! Stop moaning!"

John stretched his good arm out to grab his bottle of beer. Kerry slapped his hand away. "Do you want to get a makeup brush poked in your eye?"

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this."

Don poked his head round the door, now changed into his shirt and tie, suit jacket tossed casually over his shoulder. He dropped down onto the couch and draped his jacket carefully over the back.

"Don't be such an old woman, John. D'you want to have a black eye on your wedding photos?"

John scowled and flinched again. He glanced up as Mike pushed in between Duncan and Mickey, nearly earning himself a slap off Kerry.

"John, I'd better go and get the kids up. You gonna be all right?"

"Course I will."

Mike nodded. "We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Yeah, whatever." John was deliberately evasive.

His brother looked at him in half frustration. "Any chance of a word?"

"I'm kinda caught up with something, Mike."

Kerry sat back. "No, go on. I'm done."

Don leant forward to get a better view. "Nice one, Kerry. We'll make sure you don't run dry tonight."

"How many people are you gonna offer my booze to?" John shot him a glare.

Mike looked pointedly at his watch. John gave up and followed his brother out into the hallway.

"C'mon, Mike, I've gotta lot on."

"I want to know if Dad's coming."

"What'd you think?"

"You didn't invite him?"

"Why the hell would I?"

Mike shrugged. "It's just Mam told me he'd tried to contact you."

"Yeah, he did. And I told him to fuck off."

"I thought you would." Mike's sigh was almost inaudible. "I guess it's up to you."

John nodded. "Yeah. It is. I'll see you down at the reg. office."

Mike smiled ruefully and turned to open the door. He paused with his hand on the latch. "John? What you hiding?"

"What you on about?" John was automatically defensive.

"Come off it! I can read you like a book. You got into a fight, didn't you? That's how you got the bruises."

"So what if I did?!" John responded more heatedly than he'd meant to. He couldn't tell his brother, couldn't admit he was still scared of that bastard. He didn't want Mike to see that the past still affected him.

"I just wanna know why you wouldn't tell me."

"Because it's nothing to do with you! We've been through this, Mike. Don't try and interfere with my life. I don't want you to, okay?"

Mike nodded slowly. "Okay. I won't interfere. See you later, mate."

The door closed softly behind him. John let the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and wandered back through to the living room. He collapsed onto the couch next to Don, tugging at his tie with his free hand.

"Not having second thoughts, are ya?" Don glanced sideways at him.

"Don't get me started. Why the hell couldn't we have just gone to Gretna Green or something simple like that?"

"Because Claire wants to tell the world," Kerry said, simply.

John let his head loll back against the couch. "Does anyone else just wanna crawl into bed and pretend this day's not happening?"

"Great husband-to-be you are," Duncan put in.

X X X

Someone slid a key into the front door. None of the officers lounging in the living room took any notice.

"Is my flat turning into the social place for the whole of Sun Hill?!" John roared from the bathroom. "Who the hell's that?"

Don dragged himself to his feet and ambled out into the hallway to have a look.

"Ah…"

"What's 'ah' supposed to mean?"

Don smiled smoothly at the rather hacked-off Claire. "I mean…"

"I don't care what you mean. What the hell you lot're up to? Where's John?"

Don was forced to follow her as she made a beeline for the bedroom. "What'd you mean, what're we up to?"

"Why did you ring Kerry up and why did she suddenly remember five minutes later that she had somewhere urgent to be?"

"Um… Isn't it unlucky for you and John to see each other before the wedding?"

Claire pushed past him again and went through to the living room. "Don, will you tell me where John is?"

"Listen, Claire…"

"I don't want to listen! I'm getting married in one hour's time and I want to know what the hell's going on!"

Don looked helplessly to the others.

"It's not as bad as you think," Kerry said helpfully.

"Nah, it isn't." Mickey gave his version of support.

"What isn't as bad as I think it is?!"

"Claire."

She spun to find John leaning in the doorway, watching her expressionlessly.

Claire's eyes swept over him. "I don't believe this!"

John didn't say a word.

"One day, John! One day to keep out of trouble. I should've known it was too much to ask!"

"Will you let me say something?"

Claire ignored him and turned on Don. "No doubt you had something to do with it."

"I didn't…!"

"It wasn't Don's fault." John reached forward to grab Claire's arm. "Can we do this somewhere else?"

Claire had a sweeping glance round, seeing Mickey and Kerry watching with great interest, and noticing Rod for the first time.

"In the kitchen?" John practically pulled her out of the living room and down the hallway.

He shut the kitchen door and leant back against it.

"Are you wearing makeup?"

"I had to do something. Or did you want me to turn up with a black eye?"

"I didn't want you to have a black eye, full stop! The photos are gonna look fantastic, aren't they?"

John raked his free hand through his hair, then stopped when he remembered he'd just gelled it.

"Will you let me explain?"

"Explain what, that you got into a fight the night before you got married? That you got so pissed you didn't even realise you were throwing the punches?"

"It didn't happen last night!" John's voice rose sharply, the only way to make himself heard.

Claire finally stopped. "What?"

"We went down to the reception place this morning to check everything was OK. That's when I did it happened. And to be perfectly honest, Claire, I don't feel totally up for a row at this moment in time."

He saw her eyes soften. "You all right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Who was the fight with?" Her voice returned to normal level.

John looked at the floor. "No one."

He felt her hand under his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "What happened, John?"

"Nothing!"

"That's a load of shit. I'm not going anywhere near that registry office until you tell me."

John looked heavenward. Why did he have to fall madly in love with one of the few women who could, and would, give as good as they got?

"John!"

"It was my dad, all right?"

Claire was shocked into silence for a few seconds. "Your dad?!"

"Yeah. Mam must've told him where to find me. He turned up while we were at the bar. We both lost it, just went for one another. He got in a few good punches."

Claire's eyes closed. "John, I'm sorry."

She stepped forward into his warm embrace as he encircled her with his arms.

"God, I love you."

He smiled. "You didn't a minute ago."

"I just don't want anything to ruin this for us. I want to be with you, John. I don't want anyone or anything getting in the way of today."

He reached to brush his lips against hers. "Nothing will. Just forget all of this happened. It's gonna be the best day of our lives, Claire. I promise you, nothing will spoil it."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Once again I apologise for the sameful amount of time between updates but I have been without the Internet for over a month and have only just had my connection restorted - YAY! And I'm on holiday soon so hopeful updates will return to a more normal timeframe. Thanks for all your patience.

CHAPTER 6

Deakin glanced at his watch, grimacing at the hammer pounding inside his head.

"Typical. He's gonna be late."

"He won't." Meadows was less cynical. "He's dead serious about all this. He'll be here."

Deakin raised one eyebrow. "Guv, it's five too. And I'm not even going to ask where Claire is."

"Anyone would think it's his wedding," Danny muttered in Jim's ear.

Jim smiled broadly and nodded his agreement. He glanced behind him to view the other guests gathered on the groom's side. He didn't recognise too many of them. There were maybe three familiar faces from Stafford Row. There was a stocky guy he recognised to be John's brother, standing next to an older woman and a younger man with a cheeky grin and a hyperactive demeanour. Jim assumed them to be John's mother and some other relative. The others were all unknown friends of John's, some Scousers he'd obviously known from childhood, some with the distinctive air of coppers, old mates from various other nicks and training school. The only kids present were a teenaged lad and a younger boy, presumably his brother. Jim could hear their Australian accents when they spoke and presumed them to be John's nephews from Sydney. Jim found himself taken aback by the striking resemblance the strapping older boy had to his uncle.

"You know anyone?" Danny asked in his ear.

"Nah, not many. I think that's his family over there."

"Surprised he invited them."

Jim couldn't help but agree.

"Oh, looks like he's decided to grace us with his presence after all." Deakin's voice drifted back to them.

John leapt out of the cab that had just pulled up in front of the registry office. Don, Mickey, Rod and Duncan all fought their way out in an ungraceful tangle

"God, Mickey's managed to find a suit," Meadows commented with a wicked grin,

A shout went up from the Sun Hill officers as they noticed Rod, who immediately raised a fist in recognition.

"All right, lads!"

"Hey, whose wedding is this?" John shoved him out of the way and bounded up the front steps to be greeted by various shouts of "About time" and "Thought you'd got cold feet!"

Everyone on his side crowded round to greet him. He slapped palms and yelled greetings to all his mates from Romford, Stafford Row, Hendon and Barton Street before he was finally able to free himself from the circle that had formed round him and look to his family. His mother's arms encircled him before he could do anything and his cousin Kieran, the hyper young man who'd always been like another brother to him, reached forward to grab him.

"Can't believe you're settling down, mate!"

John tactfully side-stepped the over-enthusiastic punches his cousin landed to him, releasing himself from his mother's embrace at the same time. No sooner was he standing on his own when a small body hurled into him in a bear hug. His youngest nephew Danny beamed up at him, his tanned face bright and happy as ever, overjoyed at seeing his beloved uncle again.

"John! Dad made me wear a tie! Can I take it off!"

"Daniel!" Mike pushed his way forward to glare at his son. "What'd I tell you?"

John winked at his nephew, for once deprived of his uniform trackies and surfer's T-shirt and obviously not very happy about it. He'd always had a soft spot for Danny. "Just shove it in your pocket, eh?"

Danny's face split into his widest grin again. "Thanks, man!" He shot a meaningful look at his father.

"All right, John?" A deeper, more mature voice sounded behind Danny. Nick Boulton, now sixteen years old, six foot one of lean muscle and pure athleticism reached out a large hand to high-five his uncle.

"Great. How 'bout you?"

Nick shrugged well-muscled shoulders inside his nehru suit jacket. "I got back into school and I'm gonna take my HSC. And I've gotta scout from Sydney Youth comin' to watch me at footie camp."

John's face broke into a grin at the pride evident in Nick's voice. He hardly recognised the troubled, rage-filled teen of six months ago, running around with a gun-toting drugs gang. He couldn't have been more proud if the handsome Aussie Rules star player was his own son. "That's fantastic, Nick."

Nick's long arms enveloped him in a bear hug. "I told you I could do it, man."

"I never said you couldn't."

Nick smiled that familiar smile, so much like John's. "I've moved on, John. I've changed."

"I know you have."

Nick's eyes danced and he and John released each other. John found himself looking at his mother and his smile faded.

"Mam, can I have a quick word?"

She followed him to one side, away from the main crowd.

"Why'd you tell Dad?"

"What?"

"That I'm getting married, what my phone number is, where he could find me. Why'd you tell him, Mam? You knew I didn't want him involved."

"I thought he had a right to be told."

"He gave up any rights to me years ago!"

"John, please…"

"Look, I don't care about that. I just want you to promise me something."

"Go on."

"Promise you won't be taken in by him, Mam. He hasn't changed. He's exactly the same as he's always been…"

"How do you know he hasn't changed?"

"I know, all right? Makes sure he stays away from you, Mam. If he comes near you, I'll punch his lights out. Please, Mam."

"Is that what you want?"

"You know it is. Just say you won't be fooled by him."

She smiled. "At least I know you still care, even if I barely see you more than once a year…"

"We've been through this! I've got my own life now. And my life's here. I can't just drop everything and run back to Liverpool..."

"John, do we have to argue today of all days?"

John gradually softened and allowed a smile. "No. S'pose we don't. Come here." He wrapped his good arm round her shoulders and pulled her to him. "I'm glad you came, Mam."

"John! Claire's 'ere!" Don's shout drifted back.

John glanced at his mother again and smiled. "See you in there."

He pushed his way back through the crowd to stand next to Don as Claire climbed out of her taxi. His face broke into his widest grin and he stepped forward to envelope her in his embrace.

"God, you look gorgeous."

She smiled, her fingers gently skating over his bruised cheekbone. "Not so bad yourself."

He reached out and entwined his fingers in hers. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

X X X

"Do you, John Patrick Boulton, take Claire Emma Stanton to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

John swallowed slightly, realising there was no way back now. "Yeah. I do."

Five minutes later, Don handed him the jewellery box. John clasped Claire's hand in his and gently slipped the ring onto her finger, gazing at his own. He'd been wearing it for less than two minutes, but it already felt like he'd had it forever. His face cracked into a smile.

"You can now kiss the bride."

John glanced back at his side of the registry office and smiled. He tipped his head and pressed his lips against Claire's in a slow, sensual kiss.

X X X

They emerged out onto the pavement under a cloud of enthusiastically-hurled confetti, to be greeted by the flashes of the photographer's camera and yells and wolf-whistles from John's mates.

"Well, you did it, mate. Never thought you'd actually got through with it."

John glared at him just as the flash went off.

"Yeah, you two just destroy the photos." Claire gave Don a look to kill.

Don merely threw an arm round John's neck and grinned into the camera. "You're meant to smile, Claire."

Nick sidled in to stand behind his uncle for the next picture. "Hey, John?"

"Yeah?"

"You know the party tonight?"

John glanced back at him and grinned knowingly. "Don't tell me. You got somewhere else to be."

Danny appeared as if on cue, pushing in between Don and John. "He wants to go to a club with this girl he met at the hotel."

"Shut it, Daniel." Nick swiped a long arm at his younger brother.

"Keep still!" The photographer yelled, getting annoyed with his uncooperative subjects.

"Shut up!" John and Nick both yelled back in unison.

"Oh, looks like we've got another John here," Don put in.

"Nicholas, what did I say to you?" Mike moved up behind the son who now towered over him.

"I'm not doing the group shot yet!" the irate photographer protested.

Mickey and Rod appeared. "Did you say group shot?"

The poor bloke looked as if he was about to tear out what little hair he had left. "Fine. Group shot. Everyone!"

"He'll want paying extra now," Claire said, in John's ear.

"He's not gettin' paid at all. He's an old mate of Don's, doing me a favour."

Claire glanced sideways at him. "Is he really?"

"Smile!" The photographer ordered.

Don threw up a fist. "Sun Hill rules!"

Immediately, there were various yells of protests. The flash went off, accompanied by shouts of: "B. Street rules!" "S. Row rules!" and the names of the various other stations the gathered officers were attached too. Danny, of course, had to have the last word. "Australia rules!"

X X X

John yawned, then scowled as Claire elbowed him. "You're meant to look as if you're enjoying yourself."

"This is dead!"

"It's not meant to be fun. We've got the party tonight to have a good time."

"Why the hell did we have to have a reception, then?"

"It's called tradition, mate," Don informed him, standing beside the newly-weds.

John rolled his eyes heavenward and looked into his champagne flute. "Should've brought some Buds."

"John! You agreed; have the reception for a couple of hours to get rid of everyone, then get the whole nick together later on and really celebrate."

"I didn't know it'd be so dead! All the lads just want to go down the pub!" He grinned. "Hey, d'you reckon anyone will notice if we take off?"

"Yes!"

John glanced sideways at Don. Don grinned back. "See what you've let yourself in for, mate?" He nodded across the room. "Here ya go, in-law alert. I'll make myself scarce."

He made a quick escape to join the Sun Hill crowd, standing chatting with a few of John's Hendon mates. John was left to shake hands with Claire's parents and plaster a polite smile across his face.

"So, John, how's the job?" Tom Stanton asked.

John nodded. "Fine, thanks. Everything's goin' well."

He felt Tom's eyes sweep over him and he resisted the urge to shuffle his feet. He hated being scrutinised.

"Dad." Claire gave her father a look.

"What? What am I doing now?" He smiled at John. "You'd never believe I was her father, would you, John?"

John shifted uncomfortably. "No."

He looked desperately across to his group of mates.

"Finding it a tough day, John?" Claire's mother asked.

"A long one." Strangely, it felt easier talking to her.

"You look exhausted."

"Uh, I was up early."

"Yeah, very early." Claire shot him a wicked grin.

John could bite back a returning grin. "Look, I'm gonna see if Don's remembered his speech. S'cuse me."

He made a quick escape to join the others. "You lot got to know each other?"

"Kerry's doin' pretty well, intcha, Kerry?" Mickey put in.

Kerry gave him a look of pure ice. John allowed himself to be surrounded by his old mates; some he hadn't seen for months. It felt great to have all of them around him, to hear the familiar voices and laddish banter that he knew so well. He felt himself begin to relax.

"How's it feel, then?" Jase, his best mate of years, shouted across.

John grinned, genuine. "Feels great, mate."

"What 'bout the in-laws?"

"I'll tell you when I've got to know them a bit better." John wrinkled his nose.

"You mean you're going to get to know them better?"

"Nah. Probably not."

Across the other side of the room, Claire watched her father watch John.

"Has he got a black eye?"

"Um, he had a violent arrest a couple of days ago. It's nothing, Dad."

"He doesn't seem very comfortable."

"He's not used to having family involved. He's not close to his."

"We were speaking to his mother at the registry office. Seems a nice woman."

"Yeah, she is. John's just not got a strong relationship with her. He doesn't see her a lot."

Tom Stanton put his hands in his pockets. "I haven't seen his father around."

"Dad!"

"What now!"

"He hasn't got a dad. Don't start, all right? I don't care who John is, what his past was like and how he feels about his family. I love him and he loves me. That what's important, yeah?"

"All right!"

Claire looked over to the group of friends. "I think Don's gonna get his speech over with."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Did you have anything to with the choice of best man?"

"Dad! One more word…"

"I was just saying."

"Well, don't. I'll talk to you later."

She moved to join John at the front of the assembled crowd of guests as Don made his way to his given stage, hand in pocket, still carrying his drink.

"Right, folks, I'm gonna keep this short because this suit's gotta be returned in twenty minutes. Well, what can I say? John, a married man. If you'd have said to any of his colleagues, even six months ago, that one day he'd be getting hitched, I think just about everyone would've been willing to bet their pensions against it. But he's done it. He's proved us wrong and I can honestly say I've never seen him as happy as this, apart from that time up the West End when he was dancing with a lamp pose after about ten pints."

Not even John could swallow his laughter. Don grinned and winked at him. "John really is a great bloke. He's the sort who only comes along once in a lifetime… Just unfortunate it had to be in my lifetime. He is quite well-off really, but he never brags about it. In fact, you could be in the pub with him all night and never know he had a penny. There's nothing I wouldn't do for John, and there's nothing he wouldn't do for me. In fact, we spend our lives doing absolutely nothing for each other. Sorry, John. But seriously, he's been my best mate for nearly five years and I can honestly say he is one of the most loyal blokes I've ever known. Claire, he may be irresponsible, he may be a bit mad at times, but just remember that's he's always gonna be irresponsibly mad for you.."

"Go on, John!" Rod yelled.

"Apparently it's tradition to give a bit of advice," Don continued. "So, here goes. John, two things that're key to a successful marriage are honesty and wisdom. _Always, _always be honest with Claire and _always_ keep your word once you've given it. And then we have wisdom. The wisdom is _never _give your word in the first place!"

Shout and catcalls erupted from all the men.

Don allowed his wicked grin to tone down a bit. "Seriously, though, I know how much John thinks of Claire, and I know how much she thinks of him. They make a great couple, they made for each other if you ask me. And I just hope they have all the happiness in the world, and more." He raised his glass in the air. "Here's to love and maybe even the pitter-patter of tiny sergeants."

"Don't count on it!" John shouted.

Don grinned. "John and Claire. Best of luck."

"John and Claire." The others responded as one.

Don had to have a drink. "And John's nephews just want to say a few words, apparently. Nick, Danny, your audience."

Danny pushed his way up first with all his usual eagerness. Nick followed behind, playing it cool.

"Um, John didn't know that I was gonna speak, but there's just a few things I wanna say to him that I've not really had the guts to say before..."

"You rule, John!" Danny butted in.

He received a shove and a growled: "Shut it." John barely managed to swallowed his laughter.

"Anyway. John's not like my uncle. He's my mate, he's my footie coach, he's almost like my brother. I guess he's kinda my mentor as well. There's a lotta things I might've given up on if I hadn't had John there for me. There were roads that I could've gone down that could have got me into a lotta trouble. But John didn't let me. He didn't tell me what to do, or how to do it, but he was there for me. I guess he was there to help me make the right choice and I don't know if I would've done without him…"

He grinned. "I don't always act as if I appreciate him, but, man, I do. John, I owe you more than I could ever say in some ways and I'm never gonna forget the things you've done for me. I just hope you have all the luck in the world now, man, because you deserve it."

"And I just think John's way cool." Danny butted in. "You go, man!"

The guests collapsed into the laughter. Nick grinned, raised a fist in the air and pushed his way back into the crowd with Danny trailing behind him, raking in the attention.

The crowd separated to return to their various social groups and get more drinks. John waited for his nephews to join him and Claire.

"Never thought I'd hear you say anything like that, Nick. Thought it was too soft for you."

Nick shrugged. "Well, you know. Some things you just gotta say sometime, I guess."

"You bored now?"

"Yes!" Danny butted in.

Nick grinned. "Kinda. It's not really my sorta thing."

John reached into his jacket pocket and produced his wallet, taking out thirty pounds. "Go on, then sod off and find something to do. Take Danny down to Sega World or something. Make sure you get a cab back to the hotel, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, John."

"Get outta here before Mike sees you."

"He went outside a few minutes ago."

"Go out the back, then. I'll see you before you leave if you're not coming tonight. Have a good time, all right?"

His nephews slipped off slyly into the crowd to find the back exit.

"You're soft on them," Claire commented.

"Me? Nah."

"John?"

He turned on hearing his brother's voice. "Where'd you disappear to?"

"I needa word."

"You'd never guess this is my wedding day!"

"Five minutes. _Now._."

John rolled his eyes heavenward, but allowed Mike to take him to one side. "What?"

"John." Mike's eyes were clouded with uncertainty. "Dad's outside."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - And it's done! YAY! Watch out for something new coming very soon...

CHAPTER 7

A chill ran down the length of John's spine. "You what?"

"He wants to speak to you."

His muscles tightened and he felt that band of panic around his chest again. "No…"

"Come on, mate. He wants to wish you good luck, tell you he's happy for you. Just give him a couple of minutes."

"You don't get it, Mike!"

"What's there to get?"

John swallowed the lump in his throat. "I didn't you how I did got the bruises."

"So?"

"Mike, it was Dad. He showed up this morning. Everything got outta control."

"You fought him, didn't you?"

John nodded slowly. "Sort of. There were a few punches thrown. He hit me pretty good. He did it again, Mike. He'd been drinking, I could smell it on his breath. He hasn't changed. He's still the same bastard he's always been."

He saw Mike's jaw tense, and anger begin to burn in his eyes. "I don't believe this. I can't believe he did that to you! After all this time! I'll kill him."

John tried to grab him, but Mike was storming for the entrance door, throwing it open with brute force.

"Dad!" His voice rose to a bellow.

"Mike, don't!" John tried to pull him back. "I can fight my own battles. I don't need you to do this!"

"I'm your fucking brother, John! Whatever you think, that's never changed! I'm not gonna stand by and let him start it all again!"

"Mike?" Jack Boulton's voice broke in between his sons'.

Mike turned on him. "Why, Dad? Why'd you do it!"

"I didn't mean…"

"Oh, do me a favour. We've heard it all before. It's his fucking wedding day, Dad!"

"Knock it off, Mike!" John's own voice rose sharply.

"Keep out of it."

John lost his cool. "No, you keep out of it! This is my fight, Mike. It's been my fight since you fucked off and left me!"

"I can't let him get away with it. I couldn't do anything back then, John! I can now!"

"No, you can't! I don't want you too!"

Mike's voice dropped. "Why?"

"Look at him, Mike. He's scum. He's a worthless, stupid bastard. He's not worth wasting your breath on!"

"But he did that to you!"

"Please, Mike. I want you to leave it."

"Will you two stop it?" Jack Boulton intervened. "Neither of you've changed a bit, have you? Not from when you were kids."

"Just shut up, all right?" John turned on him sharply. "Stay out of it."

"I'm only here to apologise to you, John. I didn't know I'd swung so hard. Christ, I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Well, it did. So now will you just fuck off and leave me alone?"

"John, I'm proud to call you my son…"

"I'm not your son."

"…I always hoped you grow up to be like this. You've got that strength, inside you. I wanted strength like that but I never got it. You've got over everything and you've come out on top. I know there aren't many people that could do that. But both of you. You've both made successes of yourselves, you've both found good lives and you're living them. I always hoped that you'd prove yourselves. You have done…"

"Knock it off, Dad!" John cut in harshly. "You think that crap's gonna wash with us now? We don't care what you think of us. We don't care if you're proud. We didn't do any of the things we've done for you. We did them for us. You've never been a factor."

"Is that the truth?"

"You know it is." Mike's eyes burned into his father. "Will you go now? You've said what you came to say."

"I just want you to know that I'll always be proud of you two…"

"Took a course in philosophy while you were inside, did you?" John was out of patience. "Forget it, Dad. It's not gonna work. Just go, all right. And don't come back."

Jack Boulton nodded slowly, and a wry smile creased his face. "Good luck with this girl, John."

John remained silent, face stony, jaw set. His gaze remained fixed on his father as he walked away, until he'd disappeared from view. He jumped when felt a hand on his shoulder. He and Mike spun round to see Claire and their mother standing behind them. Without a word, Mike stepped into the arms that had always comforted him the most and allowed his mother to hug him too her. John remained where he was, torn for a split second. Then he reached out to Claire and drew her close to his chest.

"Who needs luck?" he whispered.

X X X

The room pounded to the beat of the thumping music. Coloured lights flashed, send bright beams flying into every corner. The atmosphere was hot and heavy, the body heat of the whole of Sun Hill mixing with the numerous clouds of cigarette smoke to make it almost stifling. Up on the stage, Nick Klein was at the mixing desk, his expert hands dealing out tunes to keep up with the constant demand as drunken officers, uniform and CID alike, mixed together and danced like there was no tomorrow.

For the first time all day John felt relaxed. He stood by the bar, joking around with the lads, arms wrapped round Claire. The alcohol had helped him to forget earlier events and things were becoming less and less worth paying attention to as he downed bottles and slammers. Screw the past. This was his wedding party. He wasn't going to let anyone stop him having a blast.

"So, where's the honeymoon gonna be?" Mickey asked.

John grinned. "Sydney."

He and Claire were the only ones who got it. The others just looked confused.

"We're going to Tobago." Claire put them straight.

"You just said…" Mickey started.

Don shoved him out of the way. "Shut up, Mickey!"

Rod shrugged at his new-found cohort. "I don't get it either."

They wandered off together to chat up the nearest available women, united by their dislike of being the butt of CID jokes.

"Right, where's the happy couple?" Nick yelled into his mic. "John? Claire? C'mon, don't be shy."

"In your dreams, mate," John shouted back.

"Nice to see being married hasn't affected your sense of humour, sarge," Nick returned easily.

He waved a wrapped package above his head. "Mickey's asked me to give you this. He wanted to wait till now."

"And there was me thinking he'd just forgotten!"

They made their way up the stage to be presented with the gift. Not losing eye contact with Mickey, John slit the paper and allowed Claire to open the box. A wicked grin lit up his face.

"Thanks, Mick. These'll come in really handy!"

He and Claire each took their own gifts and raised them in the air. A pair of blue fluffy handcuffs and a pair of identical pink ones.

"Knew you'd love 'em!" Mickey shouted.

John took Claire's and held them up. "Which one d'you reckon?"

"Pink!" Nearly all the lads roared back.

Nick spun a record on his finger and set it on the desk. "Okay. This one's for the bride and groom, or whatever they call themselves."

In the midst of cheers, yells and wolf-whistles, a grinning John allowed himself to be pulled out onto the dance floor, in the middle of the rest of their partying colleagues.

"Go for it, you two." Nick gave the record a wrist flick and set Ricky Martin's Private Emotion going, to a series of shouts of protest. "Oh, shut up! It's tradition to play at least one crap tune."

John couldn't have cared less what record it was. He took Claire in his arms and they began to move slowly to the music as she rested her head against his shoulder. It took only a minute or so for the others to get bored of watching them and turned back their own partners. John was amused to see Kerry in Rod's arms, and Mickey getting rather close to Di Worrell. Even Danny seemed to have found a bit of romance for the night in the form of Vicky Hagen.

"Hey, you're meant to pay attention to me." Claire cupped her hand under his chin and turned his gaze back on her.

He grinned. "I am."

He tipped his head and met her lips with his in a long, lingering kiss. The track ended and clapping erupted around them as the others finally saw them. John barely noticed they were there. The only thing he was aware of was the soft, sensual feeling of Claire's lips against his.

"Way to go, sarge!" Nick, of course, had to say something.

"All right, you can put 'er down now!" Mickey yelled.

The newly-weds ignored them all.

"Anyone got a crowbar?" Don shouted with a ear-piercing wolf-whistle.

John pulled back slightly so his face was just millimetres away from Claire's. "Do we listen to them?"

"What'd you think?" She ran her hand behind his head and pulled his lips back against hers. Yells and cheers rang out.

"Come on, you two. We've got four minutes to midnight and you're not even gonna know anything's happened!" Nick yelled.

There was yet another cheer as they eventually parted and looked up.

"It's all right, folks. They're alive!" Don announced for everyone to hear.

John and Claire let the jokes and banter flow, remaining standing in the middle of the dance floor with their arms round each other.

"Two minutes!" Nick yelled. "Everyone out onto the balcony."

There was a mad rush for the door as everyone tried to push through at the same time. John and Claire finally got outside and shoved their way to the front, to look out across the illuminated London skyline.

"Reminds me of our rooftop," Claire whispered in John's ear.

"Not as good," he replied with a soft smile.

Eventually everyone was gathered outside, in the arms of their husbands, wives, lovers, or one-night partners. A hush fell over the crowd, for the first time all night.

"Ten!" Nick started the countdown off.

"Nine…eight...seven...six…five...four...three...two...one!"

The distant sound of Big Ben chiming could just be heard, ringing out twelve gongs as the gathered officers yelled and cheered. As if on cue, the London sky was lit up by the fireworks, as the city began their celebrations. Rod looked down at Kerry and grinned, tipping his head down to envelope her in a passionate kiss. Mickey and Di slipped off back inside, unnoticed, hand-in-hand. Danny and Vicky retreated into a corner of the balcony for their celebrations.

John looked across at Claire, the fireworks sending splashes of colour across his face. "That's it. We've been married for a day."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

"Happy New Year, Mrs Boulton."


End file.
